


Dirty Love

by semperama



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Anal Fisting, Bathroom Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Omorashi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperama/pseuds/semperama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the first night of the honeymoon, they make passionate, gentle love by moonlight. On the second night of the honeymoon, there is this: a huge, beige-tiled bathroom with large wooden shutters open to tropical scenery; a walk-in shower; and Chris, on his hands and knees, stripped bare, waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Love

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a birthday present for my fellow deviant. Thank you for giving me an excuse to let my inner freak out. Ilu. <33

On the first night of the honeymoon, they make passionate, gentle love by moonlight. On the second night of the honeymoon, there is this: a huge, beige-tiled bathroom with large wooden shutters open to tropical scenery; a walk-in shower; and Chris, on his hands and knees, stripped bare, waiting.

“Here, baby, drink up.”

Zach appears next to his head with a glass of water—the second one he’s made him drink since they walked back from the restaurant. And this is on top of the three glasses of pinot noir and the one whiskey sour already sloshing around inside him. Still, without protest, Chris sits back on his heels and drinks it down on three long gulps, then hands the glass back to Zach, who makes a sound of approval as he sets it on the bamboo bench at one end of the shower. 

Zach is still wearing the suit he had on at dinner, though his tie is loose now and the first few buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned. Chris watches as he strips off his jacket and tosses it free of the shower, then starts rolling up his sleeves. 

"Back down on your hands and knees, please." Zach's voice is all business, the 'please' merely perfunctory. Chris obeys, falling back down onto all fours and shifting around in an attempt to get comfortable. The tile is hard on his knees, but he isn't planning on complaining. He knows how much worse Zach could make it if given the opportunity and the motivation.

But Zach must be in a tender mood, because he reaches out to stroke his fingers through Chris's hair and then down his back. Chris shivers, goosebumps raising across his skin in the wake of the touch, and he can’t help but let out a needy little mewl. Both the anticipation of what’s to come and the fullness in his belly have made him hypersensitive, and he aches to be touched more, harder, with more intent. 

“I know,” Zach murmurs, as if reading his mind. But rather than indulging him, he withdraws his hand and walks out of Chris’s field of vision again. Chris hears his footsteps traveling around the bathroom for a moment before he returns and taps Chris’s lower back, then kneels down at his side. “Here. This will help.”

Something soft touches his legs, and Chris looks down to see that Zach has brought him a towel, folded in quarters, to make him a little more comfortable. He lifts one knee and then the other, so Zach can slide it under him, then turns his head to smile at him. Zach smiles back and leans in to kiss him gently, fingers caressing the side of his face, then sliding down his neck. When he withdraws, his smile is a little more mischievous. Chris’s stomach flips.

“So.” Zach sits back on his heels, then stands up. “I thought we might play a little game. How are you feeling? Comfortable?”

Chris has to think for a moment about how he is expected to answer this one. Eventually, he settles for the truth. There are only so many things Zach could be thinking, after all. There are only so many reasons why they are in the shower instead of wrapped around each other in bed. “Mostly I feel like I have to piss.”

Zach hums happily, and Chris hears him move behind him, can almost feel the weight of his gaze on him. 

“Mmm, you had a little too much to drink, didn’t you?” One of Zach’s bare feet nudges at Chris’s calf, and, taking the hint, Chris spreads his legs a little bit. “Sorry. You’re going to have to wait.”

The words cause the dull pressure in his gut to spike a little more urgently for a moment, but Chris isn’t worried. He knows how much he can take, and it’s a lot more than this. Zach has to know that too though.

“What’s the game?” Chris asks. Rather than answering right away, Zach gives his leg another light tap with his foot, making him spread his legs open more. Then, he kneels in between them, running his hands up the back of Chris’s thighs and giving his ass a squeeze.

“We’re going to see how good your control is.” Zach presses in close and grinds against him, the cold metal of his belt buckle makes Chris startle a little, then shiver. He feels so exposed like this, naked and on display while Zach is still mostly clothed. Zach’s hands glide up his sides, and then he’s draping himself along his back, stretching to bite his neck and then lick the shell of his ear. “I’m going to start putting fingers in you,” he murmurs, his breath tickling Chris’s skin, “and we’re going to see how many you can take before you let go.”

“How many do you want me to take?” Chris tries not to sound cheeky, but it’s involuntary. 

Zach chuckles and pulls back enough to mouth at the vertebrae at the base of Chris’s neck. “All of them, obviously,” he says against his skin. “But keep in mind that with my whole fist in you, it might be...difficult for you to relieve yourself. So you may want to consider tapping out before that.”

Chris shudders, his dick twitching. A challenge. Zach knows how he responds to challenges. He grits his teeth and nods, casting a glance over his shoulder at Zach, who is straightening up and watching him with eyebrows raised. 

“We’ll just see,” Chris says with a smirk.

“Oh, so sure of ourselves, are we?” Zach reaches under him to palm his half-hard cock, then slides his hand up to his lower stomach, resting right over his bladder. “Go on, be as cocky as you want now. We both know you’re going to be a sobbing mess in a minute.”

Chris resists the urge to squirm away from the gentle pressure of Zach’s hand. Zach is not really pushing, but just being touched serves as a reminder of how full he is. And yet, he isn’t as full as he’s going to be—in every sense of the word. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he hisses.

“Are you in a hurry?” Chris can hear the smirk in Zach’s voice, but it’s good. It bolsters his confidence, makes him even more determined to show Zach that he can do this.

“Nope.” He arches his back like he’s stretching, pushing back against Zach’s crotch and the erection contained by his slacks. Zach makes a disapproving sound, but he grabs Chris’s waist and yanks him back harder, rubbing against him.

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble, baby,” he growls, but a moment later he pulls away, and Chris bites down on his bottom lip to hide a smile when he hears the click of the lube cap.

The first finger is nothing. It slips in easy, and Chris sighs in bone-deep satisfaction, curling his fingers against the tile as he struggles not to push back in a rush to get Zach deeper. Zach grips one cheek of his ass and spreads him open a little, and Chris imagines him watching his own finger disappear into Chris’s body. He wishes briefly that he could see Zach’s face, the gorgeous little pout that forms on his lips when he’s concentrating, the sharp, wicked glint of his eyes when he’s trying to figure out which of Chris’s buttons to push next. But this is good too. Without any visual stimuli, Chris is forced to focus on what he’s feeling, on Zach stretching him open and on the pressure in his lower abdomen.

Zach adds a second finger a little more quickly than Chris would have expected, but then he immediately slows things down. His fingers move languidly, in and out, stretching and scissoring with such meticulous care that Chris could easily mistake for gentleness if he didn’t know it was a deliberate attempt to wind him up. Zach is being as thorough as if it were the first time, and though it feels good, Chris can’t help but start to worry that it’s going to take too long. With each second that ticks by, the discomfort in his bladder grows. 

When he gets impatient and tries to grind back against Zach’s knuckles to get him to go faster, Zach swats him on the thigh.

“Hold still,” he barks, withdrawing his fingers almost completely. “If you can’t stay still, I’m going to get up and leave you here.”

Chris whines. Even though he doubts that Zach is telling the truth, he wants to obey, wants to play this game fair and square and revel in their shared depravity. But when Zach pushes back in with a third finger, Chris is suddenly not so sure about his ability to hold out after all. The stretch takes his mind off his need to piss for a moment, but then Zach curls his fingers down and hits his prostate dead on, and it’s all Chris can do not to howl and skitter away. The sensation zings down his dick and makes him suddenly, painfully aware of just how hard it’s going to be to hold off long enough. 

“Fuck.” He turns his head to the side to spit the word into his bicep, then follows it with two more. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Aww, sweetheart,” Zach coos at him. “Is it getting hard to contain yourself? You know you can always just give in.”

‘Fuck you’, is what Chris almost says. Instead, he lifts his head again, clenches his jaw, and gathers up every shred of confidence he has. “Nah, I’m good.”

“That’s my boy.”

The words spark a warm feeling of pride in Chris’s chest. This, after all, is one of the reasons he loves Zach so goddamn much. Even when they are pretending to work against each other, they are still so in sync, drawing things out of each other that neither of them knew they had in them. Before he met Zach, Chris was painfully vanilla, but here he is, on his hands and knees in the shower, letting Zach work him open enough to take his fist. He has never trusted another person this much, and he doubts he ever will again. Zach has been, and always will be, the exception to every rule.

This time, when Zach bears down on his prostate, Chris is prepared for it. He clenches hard around Zach’s fingers, one hand flying down between his legs to cup the head of his dick, holding himself like a child. Which, of course, earns him another smack. He should have known.

“Didn’t I tell you not to move? One more time, Chris, I swear.” Zach twists his fingers brutally. “Three strikes and you’re out.”

So much for the affectionate Zach that was stroking his hair earlier. Although Chris knows better. This is affection too, just a different kind. Zach’s free hand is stroking the outside of Chris’s thigh, a soothing counterpoint to the unrelenting pressure of his fingers, and Chris knows that even if he royally fucked up right now and let go too soon, Zach would take him to bed and hold him and pet him and reassure him. There is a reason Zach called this a game and not a test. The moment it stops being fun, he only has to tap out. Luckily for them both, Chris is stubborn.

When Zach’s pinkie slides up next to the rest of his fingers and nudges Chris’s hole, Chris whimpers, wishing he had something to hold on to. His dick is fully hard, curving toward his belly and blurting precome, and he isn’t sure he could relieve himself right now even if he wanted to. Certainly not without spraying himself in the face, at least. In a couple more minutes, he worries he will be past the point of no return.

As if on cue, Zach leans forward to whisper in his ear again. “You doing okay, sweetheart?”

“Doing perfect,” Chris says, trying to keep his voice light, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, like his bladder isn’t sending him increasingly desperate signals. 

“You sure?” Zach presses in a little, encouraging Chris’s hole to part a little around the tips of his four fingers. “You sure you don’t want to go right now? It’s alright. I’ll still fuck you.”

Chris would be lying if he said it isn’t tempting. He could still have his cake and eat it too, get sweet relief and get Zach’s dick to boot. But if he pushes through just a little longer, he could have all that _and_ have Zach’s hand up his ass. The last time Zach fisted him, the praises seemed to go on forever, and Chris wants to feel that again. Not to mention the fact that he loves the sensation of being as full of Zach as possible, so full he can barely stand it. No, he’s not going to give in. Not yet.

“Quit stalling,” he pants, managing to sound awful confident for a man who is trembling with the effort to keep still. “It’s not winning if you cheat.”

Zach’s laugh is low and dark, and it makes Chris’s chest flutter. It’s all the warning he gets before Zach is pushing in with the majority of his hand, stretching Chris’s hole until he’s in to the third knuckle. Chris lets out a shocked groan and tries to push out, tries not to panic yet when he knows he’s not even close to being at his limit. 

“Breathe, baby,” Zach’s voice is soothing. He runs his palm up to the center of Chris’s back, where he rubs circles into this skin. “You’re doing so well. You’re so good for me.”

Chris lets the breath out of his lungs in a rush—breath he didn’t even know he was holding—and, surprisingly, that does help. His muscles relax a little and the burn starts to subside. Unfortunately, the moment the pressure in his ass starts to ease, the pressure in his bladder comes back to the forefront. A sharp spike of urgency courses through him, and he lets out a hiss as he tries to ride it out, clenching to stave off the need to go. 

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

“Still okay?” Zach is still rubbing his back, like he’s a dumb sorority girl hunched over the porcelain throne. It has gone from comforting to unsettling, and Chris rounds his back in an attempt to get him to back off for a second. 

“Fine. I’m fine. Just…” He drops his head down and squeezes his eyes shut, breathing hard through his mouth. “Just...keep going.”

There is some shuffling as Zach reaches for the lube again. He squirts it into the crack of Chris's ass, letting it run down onto his fingers, and then smears it around and pushes it inside. Chris feels wet and messy already, and he knows it’s only going to get worse. Or better. Zach's fingers pump in and out of him while his thumb massages his taint, making his toes curl with the pleasure-pain that radiates outward from his prostate to his bladder. All that liquid seems to be sloshing around inside him now, desperately looking for the exit. But not yet. No, not yet.

“Come on, Zach. ‘M ready.” 

“Oh, baby, you really aren’t,” Zach laughs, but a moment later he’s dumping more lube onto his hand and nudging his thumb up against Chris’s hole. Chris fights to keep breathing, to not squirm away. He can do this. He knows he can.

But it’s hard to remember that when Zach starts pushing in, and it feels like being split in two. This is always the worst part. This is the part where Chris catalogs the pain, the way he already feels like he’s taking as much as he can bear, and decides that there’s no way Zach’s hand is getting all the way inside him. Even though he knows for a fact that he can take it, because he has taken it before, it’s so easy to convince himself that this is his limit. 

Each successive millimeter seems like too much. Zach’s hand slips in a little farther, and the cycle of doubt-panic-breathe starts all over again, until Chris is biting down hard on his bottom lip to keep from shouting at Zach to stop.

“Almost there, Chris. You’re almost past the hardest part.” Zach’s voice has that awestruck quality it always gets when they do this, like he can’t believe the things Chris will let him do to him. Chris can’t believe it either sometimes. It’s one thing to have the privilege of loving Zach, to get to spend his life with him. It’s another thing entirely to be able to share the parts of himself that he can’t share with any other person, the darkest desires that he thought no one else could accept or indulge. 

Chris takes a deep, steadying breath and tries to push out against Zach’s hand. He can feel the ridges of Zach’s knuckles, like insurmountable obstacles holding him back from slipping inside, and he swallows down on a flare of despair at the thought that he will have to fit them in somehow. Zach is pushing, pushing—not hard, but steadily.

“Fuck, Zach, I can’t—”

“You can,” Zach soothes. He reaches around to tug at Chris’s now-limp cock, momentarily splitting his attention away from his beleaguered hole. “Come on, baby. You’ve almost let me in. Just a little more.”

Chris’s arms are shaking now, and his breathing is so loud it echoes off the tile. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face, and he can feel it prickling on his chest and the small of his back too. He’s too sensitive everywhere, inside and out. His skin feels too tight for his body. He imagines himself ripping at the seams and exposing all the tender parts of himself for Zach’s scrutiny.

Then, suddenly, something gives. Zach’s knuckles slide on through, and Chris nearly shouts in triumph as the intense too-much feeling fades into something more manageable, an all-consuming fullness. He pants through it, and Zach stills to let him adjust, petting his flank tenderly.

“Such a good boy,” he murmurs. “God, look at you.”

Chris tries to imagine how it must look from Zach’s vantage point. He’s trembling all over, and feels flushed and slick with sweat. He can feel his hole struggling to close around Zach’s wrist. And then, Zach slowly, carefully curls his hand into a fist, and for a moment, all sensation becomes meaningless, blending together in his head to the tune of a chorus of _fuckfuckfuck_.

The need to piss was an afterthought for a while, but now it makes itself known again in a big way. It’s like his bladder and Zach’s fist are at war with each other. The additional pressure inside him is almost unbearable, but the way he is clenching around Zach’s hand, his body instinctively trying to push him out or pull him deeper, he knows he couldn’t let go now even if he wanted to.

“Oh fuck, Zach,” he whines. His first instinct is to wriggle away, but Zach curls his forearm around his hips and tugs him back, pushing his fist in deeper in the process.

“Shh. You’re doing so well, baby. Don’t give up on me now.”

“God, I can’t. I can’t—” Chris cuts himself off with a whimper when Zach starts drawing his hand back again, momentarily stretching him wider. His knuckles graze his prostate, and the sensation is like a hot knife, his nerve-endings lighting up with sensation that is so violent he doesn’t know whether it can strictly be called pleasure.

“Mmm, you couldn’t piss now even if you wanted too, could you?” Zach loosens his hold on him and reaches for his cock again, running his thumb across the slit and making Chris keen with need. “How long do you think you can hold out? Can you last five minutes?”

“I don’t...know,” Chris answers honestly.

“Well, let’s see, shall we?”

There is some shuffling, and something cold lands in the middle of Chris’s back, and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s Zach’s phone. Zach is actually going to _time_ him. The asshole. Fuck, Chris loves him so fucking much. 

Time quickly becomes meaningless anyway. Zach seems to be moving his fist in infinitesimal increments, putting steady pressure on Chris’s prostate, pulling out to stretch him wide and then pushing in to fill him up. Chris lets his head hang limp and closes his eyes and chokes back as many sobs as he can. Some of them slip out though, and they reverberate across the tile around them. His face is wet, but he isn’t sure anymore whether it’s from sweat or tears. He is certain he has never been this full before. The pressure inside him is immense, and every second he feels like he can’t hold on any longer, but he makes it to the next second anyway.

“Wish I could make you come for me,” Zach murmurs. “Right now. Just like this.” Chris shakes his head frantically, earning a low chuckle. “No, I know, baby boy. I know you can’t. There’s something else you’d rather do, huh? How does it feel?”

It feels like his goddamn teeth are floating, that’s what it feels like. Chris has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing a blue streak, but Zach laughs again like he’s reading his mind.

“Tell me how it feels, Chris,” he repeats.

“It feels…” Chris shifts his hands forward a little bit, like stretching out might alleviate some of his discomfort. It doesn’t. “Feels _full_. So full. God, Zach, _please_. I need to—”

“Just a few more seconds. You’re almost there.”

Chris groans and arches his back, pushing his face into his bicep and pants hotly against his own skin as he clenches his abdominal muscles in an attempt to get himself under control. He feels like he’s throbbing all over now, desperation cresting and subsiding in waves. Every time it starts building again, it’s worse than the last time. He thinks he might burst. He might just—

The alarm on Zach’s phone is shrill, the sound magnified by the tile. It makes Chris jump, and there is a metallic clatter as the phone slips off his back. He is just barely aware of Zach reaching for it and tossing it free, then slowly, torturously withdrawing his hand. There is that impossible stretch again, but Zach slips free much easier than he went in, and the moment his fingers withdraw, Chris lets out a barking sob of relief and gives in.

It rushes out of him in a flood, splattering against the slate, pooling around his knees and soaking into the towel, running in rivulets past his hands and then continuing sluggishly toward the drain. Chris lets out a wanton moan that he can’t even feel embarrassed about, too caught up in sweet release. He would swear this feels better than just about any orgasm he’s had, even accompanied by the hot rush of shame he always feels doing this in front of Zach. Maybe _especially_ because of the hot rush of shame. 

It seems to go on forever. Chris groans through it, shuddering and breathing hard, until the stream slows to a trickle, a steady _dripdripdrip_ on the tile. Suddenly, he feels so light he could float away. He might do just that, just let go of the earth and waft up into the stratosphere.

He barely has time to come back to himself before Zach is tugging on his hip.

“Turn over,” he says breathlessly. “Turn over now.”

“But—”

“Do it.”

Chris doesn’t bother protesting anymore, just falls to the side and flops over onto his back in a puddle of his own piss. He watches through heavy-lidded eyes as Zach gets to his feet and kicks the sodden towel away, then tears open a few more buttons of his shirt and tugs it off over his head without even bothering to unbutton it the rest of the way. He drops to his knees again between Chris’s spread thighs, heedless of the mess that’s surely soaking into his slacks, and shoves Chris’s thighs back toward his chest.

“Oh God, look at you.” Zach reaches down with one hand and shoves two fingers back into Chris’s slack hole, tugging down on the rim to pull him open. Chris watches Zach’s face, but Zach is watching his own fingers, his face a mask of disbelief. “You’re so fucking perfect. Fuck, how did I get so lucky?”

Chris just moans in reply, pushing his hips up. His cock is stirring to life again finally. He can see from the wet spot on the front of Zach’s pants that he’s been hard for a long time, probably the whole time.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Zach tells him, reaching for his own belt buckle. “Right here in this mess that you made.”

“Fuck _yes_.” Chris reaches out with one hand, and Zach growls as he leans in for a kiss, slipping his tongue past Chris’s teeth and nipping at his lips as he pulls away. 

Zach tears open his fly and shoves his pants and underwear down to mid-thigh, but he obviously doesn’t have the patience to get any further than that before his slicking up his cock and lining himself up. He pushes inside all at once, and Chris is still so loose and open that he accepts him easily, groaning in satisfaction. 

“I love you, baby,” Zach sighs as he starts rutting into him, hooking his hands under Chris’s knees to hold him open. “I love you so much.”

It should be almost comical, hearing a declaration like that at a moment like this. Chris’s hole feels sore and sloppy, and he’s lying in a cooling pool of urine, the acrid smell filling his nostrils, but somehow he still knows exactly how Zach feels. They both see how special this is. It’s depraved and it’s fucked up, but that’s what makes it so fucking good.

Zach fucks him with animalistic single-mindedness, his thrusts erratic. It doesn’t take Chris long to catch up with him, his dick filling out until it’s lying hard and red against his stomach. He reaches down to start tugging himself, but Zach bats his hand away, clucking his tongue.

“No, not until I say. I still have plans for you.”

Chris lets out a pitiful whimper and scrabbles at the tile, trying in vain to find something to hold onto. Judging by how ragged Zach’s breathing is, he’s already close. He reached down and traces one index finger around Chris’s hole, then briefly dips it in alongside his dick, stretching him wide again and making him moan.

“So perfect, Chris. So good for me. Oh, fuck.” Zach squeezes his eyes shut and falls forward, planting his hands alongside Chris’s shoulders to catch himself. “I’m gonna come, baby. Gonna fill you up.”

“Mmm, yeah. Please.” Chris wraps one leg around Zach’s waist to pull him close and urge him on. Zach pounds into him once more, twice more, and then stills and floods Chris with warmth, spitting curses from between clenched teeth and then dropping onto his forearms to smear a sloppy kiss across Chris’s forehead.

Zach drops his face to the crook of Chris’s neck and pants into his skin for a few moments, and Chris lets his fingers drift up and down his back, caressing him until the trembling stops. His cock is still hard, and it takes effort not to grind up against Zach’s stomach, but he knows he’ll enjoy the fruits of being patient much more. When Zach finally does pull away, it’s with a smirk that makes his heart flutter.

“I love you,” he says again, kissing Chris softly as he reaches down to guide himself out of his body.

Chris whines at the sudden emptiness and arches up against him. “I love you too, Zach. So much.”

He watches as Zach sits back on his heels and swipes his hair off his forehead, then looks down at Chris’s hard cock, chewing on his lip like he’s considering what to do with him. “You want to come now, baby?”

Chris can only nod, not trusting himself to put words to his need. Zach grins at him, then slowly climbs to his feet and pushes his pants and underwear down and off, kicks them out of the way. It isn’t until he palms his soft dick, then grips it at the base and aims it toward Chris’s crotch that Chris realizes what he’s thinking.

“Touch yourself,” Zach tells him. “Let me see that big hand wrapped around that pretty cock.”

Chris flies to comply, taking himself in hand and starting out with a few slow, experimental strokes. He keeps his eyes on Zach’s face, taking in the flush in his cheeks and the way his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes are as black as the night sky, but Chris can see the affection there, just like he can every time Zach looks at him. 

“You ready, baby?” Zach asks him. Chris nods frantically, stroking himself faster in anticipation. He is already close. The pleasure has been building in him all night, and now he craves release so badly he can taste it.

Zach’s aim is dead on. The first spurt hits Chris in the stomach, and then he redirects and the stream trickles over Chris’s fingers and the head of his cock, slicking the way for his hand. Chris lets out a low moan. His eyes shut instinctively, but then he opens them again, wanting to watch. His hand flies over his dick as Zach drenches him, getting him even more filthy than before. This is so fucked up—his back is sticky, and Zach’s come is dripping out of his loose hole, and now Zach is covering him in his piss, marking him like an animal—but Chris can’t even pretend he doesn’t love it.

“Oh, Zach, I’m—” He pushes his hips up into his hand, tightening his grip on himself, and then he’s coming, striping his chest and stomach just as Zach’s stream slows to a trickle that dribbles across his thighs before drying up. 

“You’re so beautiful, Chris,” Zach breathes, staring down at him. Chris would probably laugh if he wasn’t too busy coming down from his orgasm. He is covered in piss and come and sweat, laying prone on the floor of the shower, and Zach is choosing now to tell him he’s beautiful. He shakes his head a little, but Zach shakes his right back. “Don’t argue with me. You are.”

Zach bends over and swipes two fingers through the come on Chris’s chest, then pushes them into Chris’s mouth. Chris dutifully licks and sucks them clean, moaning around them. He is suddenly so tired, and despite how dirty he is, he is pretty sure he could crawl off to bed and fall right asleep. Trust Zach to look out for him though. He takes Chris’s hand and carefully helps him up, planting a sweet kiss on his lips before backing him toward the showerhead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, my love.”

Chris has no idea how long they stand there under the water. He mostly sags against Zach while Zach soaps him up and rinses him clean, making sure all the filth is scoured from his skin and taking the time to massage his sore back. Zach kisses his shoulders and neck while he’s shampooing his hair, then scratches his blunt nails along his scalp as the suds wash out. Chris thinks he could fall asleep standing up, as content as he is and as wonderful as it feels to have Zach’s strong, gentle, soothing hands on him. 

But eventually, Zach shuts the water off and wraps Chris in a big fluffy towel, rubbing him dry and then trundling him out of the bathroom and over to the bed.

“Go ahead and go to sleep, babe,” he says. “I need to make sure the bathroom is all clean.”

Chris obediently slides in under the covers, but he struggles not to drift off. As tired and sated as he is, he doesn’t want to fall asleep until Zach’s arms are around him again. Still, he dozes a little, dimly aware of the sounds of water running in the bathroom. He doesn’t know how much later it is that he feels Zach slide into bed behind him, but he rouses himself enough to turn over and press against him, resting their foreheads together.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Zach whispers, running his fingertips across Chris’s hip.

“Yeah.” He inhales the clean smell of Zach’s skin and sighs with contentment. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m phenomenal.”

“You _are_ phenomenal,” Zach agrees as he strokes his fingers into his wet hair. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Chris echoes. 

He still can’t believe it. There is a lifetime of nights like tonight stretching out ahead of them. They get to share this forever—love and tenderness and occasionally, like the icing on top of it all, a little bit of filth. 

“Promise me we’re never going to become a boring married couple who only has sex on Saturdays,” Chris says, placing his hand on Zach’s chest.

Zach laughs, his breath warm on Chris’s face. “I promise. I’m never going to get tired of doing dirty, dirty things to you, Christopher.”

Chris sighs happily, like Zach just promised him the world. But actually, this is better than the world. It’s everything Chris could ever have wanted.


End file.
